


From Grace

by underyogs (meigender)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meigender/pseuds/underyogs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ridgedog possessed power beyond measure, once. Of course, it was then stripped from him - unrighteously so - and bestowed upon the ruler of a new world. He wants that power back; but with no means of defeating the current Admin, perhaps it is time to try something different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Play Fighting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251950) by [sparxwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites). 



> In which Ridgedog primarily exists as a punching bag for other characters.

_For every world in existence, there is an Admin watching over it. The Admin is a powerful ruling force, tasked with setting the laws for a world and ensuring that those laws are upheld. More often than not, the Admin is the one who decides which magics and technologies influence their world, as well as determining who is and is not allowed entry into their domain._

* * *

Ridge is only a little bitter. He’s only a little bitter that he has been replaced, that his powers have been stripped from him in near entirety, and that the world is now under the watchful eye of that _two-bit ram-horned half-dwarf lightning rod_. He sneers as he contemplates the sheer waste of a perfectly good ascension. What is even the _point_ of it all if you don’t treat the mortals of the world like your cosmic playthings?

It’s not like he hadn’t tried to usurp the Storm Sage before. Of course, each of those attempts had ended in Kirin dragging him through the mud. Sometimes literally. And Ridge is sick of it, sick of the humiliation, sick of the feeling of being completely powerless, so he decides a change of plans is in order. Perhaps if he defeated the Admin of a smaller world, one which just so happened to be conveniently linked to their own, he would be able to use that power to gain leverage.

Just this once, he has no need for a portal, gathering up the residual energy of what was his power. He slices downwards through the air with the edge of his hand, ripping open the very fabric of reality and stepping through the tear. In the no-man’s land of the dimensional rift, he savours the brief moment where the seal on his power is removed and it returns to him in full, only for another seal to take its place as he gets pulled into the next world, permission to enter apparently granted.

* * *

_The powers an Admin possesses are numerous – one, for example, is the ability to bestow their power on mortal beings that they feel are worthy enough to wield it. Because of this, an Admin is highly respected and sometimes even worshipped within their world. To confront an Admin on their own territory is foolish at best._

* * *

The first thing he notices, after emerging into the middle of a forest, is the lack of the blanket presence usually indicative of an Admin, which is… puzzling, to say the least. He reaches out actively then, trying to sense any form of sapient life, finding it in a small pinprick of energy some distance away. Determined to find what he’s looking for, Ridge gravitates towards it, hoping it’s at least leading him in the right direction.

Eventually, he ends up outside a rather foreboding structure – a horned tower of basalt and red glass, capped with an ever-burning block of netherrack on each side. Kind of cliché if you ask him, but then again, now isn’t really the time for critiquing someone’s design choices. Putting his opinion of the décor aside, Ridge approaches the doors.

On entering the building, he's surprised to find none other than Dave Chaos himself, reclined in a comfortable chair near the back of the room and reading some form of arcane tome. The adventurer acknowledges him with a quick glance upwards from the page and a small humming sound before his gaze flicks back down to the book.

“Ridgedog,” Dave says politely, formally, nodding in his direction. “How can I help you?”

This isn’t right. Ridge had assumed that the man before him would be the ruler of this world, and he couldn’t have possibly been wrong. He reaches out to sense the presence again, and finds only Dave, a small soul, far too small for that amount of power. Is he supposed to be looking for someone else? He tilts his head in Dave’s direction.

“I’m looking for the Admin, if you wouldn’t mind…?” He grins sheepishly as he asks, and Dave closes his book, seemingly very interested all of a sudden.

“Oh, you don’t say? What for?”

“Ah… personal business.” He’s not _exactly_ lying, as long as you don’t count omission. “I’m sure you understand.” Dave leans forward, elbows on knees and hands under chin.

“I’m not sure I do,” he starts, warm smile falling into mild scepticism. “You see, I know the Admin, and I don’t know what personal business they could possibly want with you.”

“I’m afraid it’s very private.”

“I see.” With that said, Dave reaches over the right arm of the chair, out of Ridge’s view, and retrieves a sapphire-bladed sword from behind it. “Now…” He brandishes the sword casually, turning it in his hands. “I’m going to give you two options here. You can either tell me exactly what this business of yours is… or you can _leave_.” He punctuates the last word by tipping the point of the sword towards the door. Ridge laughs despite himself.

“Are you threatening me?” Dave smiles in response.

“Are you not threatened?” At that, Ridge draws his own weapon, a sword of diamond – not the most effective weapon, and _certainly_ not his weapon of choice, but effective enough to dispatch such a minor threat. Not to mention the fact that some things don’t travel very well between worlds. That had been an interesting learning experience.

“Nope.” He grins and charges, but Dave moves quickly, standing and blocking his first strike with little effort. They clash like that for several minutes, Ridge pleasantly surprised by his adversary’s swordsmanship. _Still not good enough_.

He lunges and Dave barely evades the strike, the blade skimming over his cheek and taking a small chunk out of his left ear. He winces slightly and Ridge takes the chance provided to him, catching the hilt of Dave’s sword with his own and launching it across the room; the man doesn’t even have time to react before Ridge stabs upwards between his ribs, through his heart, even piercing the skin of his shoulder. A dazed look passes over his face and he stares down at his own chest disbelievingly.

Ridge is about to cry out in victory when Dave looks back up and smiles at him brightly, a stark contrast to the sudden encroaching darkness, and the noise dies in his throat.

* * *

_There are many names for an Admin; some are divine in nature, such as “demigod”, or “angel”, as the Admins are considered by many to be closest to the original Gods. Some are less so. One other name of common usage is “Demon”._

* * *

With his right hand Dave reaches up and, in a deceitfully gentle movement, smacks Ridge on the cheek. The power behind the action is immense, and when the two points of skin connect Ridge is sent flying backwards, crashing over a table and into the wall opposite. While he catches his bearings and measures the severity of what he’s pretty sure is a concussion and a broken jaw, Dave reaches for the sword still embedded in his chest and pulls it out; the bloody wound healing almost instantly in its wake.

Ridge is still recovering as Dave approaches, kneeling on the floor and counting the teeth still left in the correct place in his mouth: sixteen, seventeen, eighteen… A shadow falls over him then, and he looks upwards, catching sight of what looks like _horns_ on the other man’s head, blood red, before he blinks and they flicker out of existence. Dave reaches down towards him and it takes all his willpower not to flinch at the movement.

“You come into _my_ domain,” Dave grabs Ridge by the hair, pulling back painfully, “Threaten _my_ people,” punches him in the stomach, removing the air from his lungs in an instant, “Intend to take _my_ power from me,” kicks him in the ribs, shattering several of them, “And you expect me to just _lie down and let that happen?_ ” He feels it now, feels the overwhelming, suffocating power being just barely restrained by this human vessel. He smiles regardless, blood between his teeth and shattered bone in his lungs.

“Just a little bit.” He’s suddenly being pulled up by the lapels of his coat and dragged towards a portal, dark energy radiating from Dave’s hands where they connect to the garment, sinking into Ridge’s skin and leaving an uncomfortable buzz in his veins.

“Kirin was right about you. You really are foolish.”

Dave unceremoniously hurls Ridge through the portal, and he’s almost relieved to sense his powers returning to him again before the sensation lurches to a halt and it becomes obvious that something is very, _very_ wrong.

* * *

_Another skill of note is the potential for the Admin to alter the laws of reality itself. For example, they can change the laws of reality such that certain things are only able to exist under certain circumstances. In other cases, they may make it so that these things cannot exist at all, as dictated by their rewritten laws of existence. As much as an Admin is able to give, they are equally able to take away._

* * *

That accursed demon had _done_ something to him, just a few moments ago, something that’s causing his body and his powers to reject each other in such a way that it’s literally tearing him to pieces from the inside out. The pain is unbearable and he _screeches_ , clawing at his own arms and chest, trying desperately to get it out _get it out **get it out GET IT OUT**_

By the time the portal spits Ridge back out into the other world, it feels like he has been through an eternity – and then some – of suffering. He’s dimly aware of rain on his back, slick grass under his palms, mud on his knees, and if he wasn’t in agony right now he’d probably laugh about it. _Different scenario, same outcome, eh?_ He balls one hand into a fist and smacks the ground, the action achieving nothing save for a pathetic splashing noise.

Maybe next time.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the edge of the knife](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2279748) by [cadaeic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadaeic/pseuds/cadaeic)




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